


sweet hibiscus tea

by nadia5803



Series: nadia’s king lear au [10]
Category: King Lear - Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadia5803/pseuds/nadia5803
Summary: i think they should hold hands
Relationships: Kent/Fool
Series: nadia’s king lear au [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612093
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	sweet hibiscus tea

It was a warm summer’s day. 

Unfortunately, the court was known to trap heat. And for the courtiers themselves, stuffed in suits and tuxes, the sweltering temperature did no good for them. It made Lear more irritable than usual, anyhow. Meaning that the Fool had taken their place at court, sitting in their own chair and tuning their ukulele as Kent shuffled papers.

Kent found his eyes darting over to the Fool’s makeshift corner. He reduced it to curiosity, and kept his attention trained on the documents. Cornwall sat across, legs crossed as he peeled through his stack. Tie loosened, jacket discarded to the floor, desperately trying to ignore the humidity. A long sigh. “Fool. Mind opening a window for us?” he requested. 

As much of a philosopher the Fool was, they were still reduced to quite a small role at court. They occasionally were tasked with the menial labor, the mundane chores, especially when the king needed no amusement — rather, a helping hand. It just so happened that the rule extended to the courtiers as well. So the Fool obliged, standing up from their chair as they pushed open the small window.

“Where is he?” Kent shot out, staring at the empty seat at the front of the table.

“Sleeping,” the Fool replied, their voice a mutter.

“ Sleeping ?” Kent repeated, running a hand through his hair. “Erm, alright. Cornwall...? Maybe we should move this to another time.”

“No. I’m going to wake him,” Cornwall said, rising to his feet. “You know, we don’t have all day to sit around in here. It’s fucking blistering.” Cornwall fixed his hearing aids, stepping over his seat with a wave of his hand. “Kent, love, we don’t have time to reschedule. Seriously.  You of all people should know how booked we are this week.”

“Um. Right. How about I go get him?” Kent replied, setting his papers down as he rose from his seat.

“No, he can do it,” Cornwall said, tilting a head towards the Fool, who squirmed uncomfortably in their chair. “And how about you get us some tea, too?”

“Sorry. Cornwall.  _ They  _ are not going to do it. I will. You know how the heat gets to him. And, uhh...” Kent danced over to the doorframe, pressing himself against it as Cornwall glared. He gaped, forcing a smile at him, before he shot finger guns at both of them. “So, Cornwall. English breakfast, if I’m not mistaken. And Fool...?” Kent’s gaze once again slid to them, and they raised an eyebrow, half-expecting Kent to get their preference right.

“How about I come with?” they asked.

Kent took a step backwards, side-eyeing Cornwall as the latter folded his arms with a disapproving mumble.

“Sure,” Kent replied, trying to avoid Cornwall’s icy glare and keep his focus on the Fool. Cute face. Small hands. Catty, dark eyes. Kent shook his head and smile politely. They sprung up from their chair and shot Cornwall a wide smile as they passed by.

“See you.” 

Cornwall muttered a response as Kent followed the Fool out of the room. “Don’t take too long,” he called out at the pair.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the Fool cleared their throat and kicked up their legs, walking in stride as they placed their hands behind their back. “What. A. Douchebag,” they said, flashing a cheeky smile over at Kent. 

“Mm...” Kent rubbed his eyes with the side of his eyes and muffled a yawn. “You didn’t have to come with me.”

“So you’d rather me stay behind with that douche?”

“Awful casual for someone who barely knows you,” Kent muttered, tugging at the end of his vest.

“But you’re not going to tattle-tale on me just ‘cause I called the walking dickhead what he is, right?“

Kent went quiet.

“Yes. That’s what I thought,” said the Fool, hands folded behind their back. “You know, if we look at the court from the perspective of a wheezing and arthritic ruler then I would say I am but the most influential courtier.”

“Why, Fool?”

“Because I get to make the jokes about the rest of them.”

“Ha-ha,” Kent rolled his eyes and yawned, sagging to the side like an unwatered flower.

“Bored already?” the Fool demanded, hands on their hips. “No. It’s the heat. Much too hot. One would say global warming. You’re the thermometer. Let me feel your head, the doctor’s in!” With a flourish, they straightened their stance, adjusted invisible glasses and mimed a clipboard. They pressed their hand against Kent’s forehead, forcing him to straighten his pose in tandem. “You’re burning up. Fool disease. It’s fatal.”

“Who’s patient zero?” Kent replied, cocking an eyebrow as the Fool drew their hand back. 

“Not I. Nor you. Nor the walking asshole. Perhaps some man on a big shiny chair, or, in this case, a bed. I wouldn’t know, I don’t have all the info.” The Fool discarded their invisible glasses and clipboard with a toss. “Maybe you should take off today. You look a tad feverish.”

“We all do. It’s bloody 26 degrees out, and we’re packed in suits. And I have business to do. Such as waking up kings from their royal naps and making their court jesters tea.”

The Fool chortled. “Is that what you view me as? Some demented court jester?”

“Absolutely I do,” Kent deadpanned. He stopped at the door to the break room, where the tea kettle and large vareity of teabags waited. “What tea do you like anyhow?”

“Hibiscus. One pack of sugar, dash of milk.”

“Milk with herbal tea?” Kent arched an eyebrow as he switched on the stove, leaning relaxed on the wall. “You truly are one demented court jester.”

“I’m more of a coffee person anyhow,” they replied, mocking Kent’s relaxed look with an overzealous pout. “And you?”

“I like earl gray. With milk.”

“Earl gray tea of Kent. Can I call you that? I’m going to call you that,” the Fool decided with a nod. “Pouty little man who likes his teatime and afternoon naps. Say, do you get a nap?” 

Kent shook his head and opened his mouth to detail his plight before the Fool cut him off. “I get a nap. You know, the royal bedrooms are lovely cold. Air conditioned and all.”

“Sometimes I take power naps in Gloucester’s office. He has a sleeping bag and a rotating schedule.”

“Really?”

Kent shook his head. “No, of course not,” he said as he retrieved two cups from

the cabinet. “What a gullible fool you are. But, to be fair, he does get an air conditioner.”

“We should consider modernizing the building.”

“Well, you are his most influential advisor,” Kent said, dripping with arid sarcasm. “Perhaps you should give a gentle nudge in that route. Climate change skit or something.” Kent placed a bare hand on the kettle and whipped it back. “Yup, it’s ready.”

The Fool stared, agape. “You don’t have to make me one.”

Kent glanced over his shoulder. “No?”

“No. No thanks. I just wanted to get out of that room. Awfully stuffy.”

Muttering a response as he tittered back over to the cabinet, Kent tucked the cup inside. “Could’ve saved me the trip.” He removed the kettle off the stove and poured the steaming water in the mug, making certain to pick Cornwall’s correct tea. After all, he was pretty crazy over his tea, and Kent was uninterested in further inciting Cornwall’s ire. He steeped it for a quick moment before setting it on the table. 

“And you’re not having one?”

“No. It’s too hot,” Kent replied. “Water is better.”

The Fool flashed Kent another overactive pout and shuffled to the door. “I can go wake him.”

“Will you do that?”

They nodded, offering another cheeky smile at the courtier. “Certainly, my lord.”

“No. God. Earl gray tea of Kent is better than  that ,” Kent cringed.

“No lordship? No lordship,” the Fool affirmed, reaching for an invisible memo pad. “Noted, my earl gray tea of Kent.” Kent cupped his hands around the teacup, still

deadpanning as the Fool gave a salute. “See you back at the headquarters.”

“See you,” Kent muttered.

What a strange court jester they were.


End file.
